Cabrini Cycle Challenge – Poem by Simon Woods

Susan, I’m sorry, I think you expect, that by now I’d have written a poem,
I know every time, I’ve come up with a rhyme, composed while I’m riding alone,
But this time I was stumped, the well had run dry, I’m afraid I’d be only repeating,
But then I thought hey, is that worse in some way, than you sitting through two thousand briefings?

So here you are Susan, I know it’s confusin’, it’s not really a poem – not this year
I’ll not mention aches, or strange bits that chafe, on parts that I used to hold dear,
I’ll not mention the briefings, that would have us believe in, tailwinds and sun every day,
And leave us confused, ’bout the best route to choose, when there’s only one road anyway

‘Cause I have to be careful, I know that you’ve blushed, with some of my double entendres,
When I’m glued to the saddle, all day for a week, it’s amazing just where my mind wanders,
And of course I’m surrounded, by people who think, they’re long routers – never you mind
You would think at their age, that they’d got to the stage, that a short route and nap would be fine.

But then we see Swampy, still grinding away, and defying his age and the pain
Sets his face to the wind, and his gaze on the road, rolling on through the mist and the rain,
He chose his old bike, thought it wouldn’t be right, to cheat and have too many gears so,
He’ll not complain, nor did he face the shame, of boarding the train with Shapiro

Now the youth of today, twitter their lives away, on Instagram, Facebook and snapchat
They troll, meme and flame. and it seems such a shame, their lives are consumed by their Apps
But our generation, values true conversation, that’s why as cyclists we’d rather,
Share coffee and cake, with a few of our mates, and post comments and Kudos on Strava

Now often I fail, with one vital detail, it’s matching up faces to names,
I know, that they know, I don’t know them, you know, yet I struggle on just the same,
The Smiths have a way, that they use every day, and it’s brilliant – at least between brothers,
Check my socks, yes they’re pink – so I’m Marty, I think – and that means that Brendan’s the other

As we come to the end, I’ll say thanks once again, to Susan and Phil and now Dave,
What a pleasure it’s been, seeing each Comfort Inn, welcome us at the end of the day,
Though it started with rain – lost a few to the train, still each day has brought us great pleasure
Be like Paddy and Michael, continue to cycle, and make sure that these moments we treasure.